Connected
by AbigailKinney4life
Summary: 16 year old John Watson hates his life, but when he meets college student Sherlock Holmes he realises that's all about to change. Can two socially inept outsiders survive all the challenges life throws at them? Can they find love along the way? JohnLock x
1. I wish nothing ever happened to me

Connected

Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or any of the characters, they belong to the BBC, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and any other respective owners.

A/N: Well, I have to say, reading the Sherlock Holmes books as a child and watching the 21st century adaptation this year-it did not disappoint! And what do people like us do when we like a tv show? We write FF of course! Hope you enjoy, reviews much appreciated, this is AU x

Chapter One: I wish nothing ever happened to me

"_Rebecca, please...John and Harry are trying to sleep!"_

"_You're the one whose shouting, Bernard! You started this tonight!"_

"_How did I start this?"_

"_You always start it! You always ruin my life and the kids and everyone's life around you!"_

"_How dare you? I'm trying my best to keep everything together! You're the one who said you don't want to be in this marriage any more."_

_John was sat in his room, 12 years old, hugging his Teddy Bear close to his chest and_ _tears streaming down his face._

_They always did this...they always argued, they always told each other they hated each other and John had to sit there and listen to it all. So did Harry, but John knew he couldn't go and talk to her, she didn't want to talk about it, she couldn't talk about it. And because of that, John couldn't talk about it either._

_He just lay there, crying and cuddling Mr. Grizzly to his chest as they screamed and screamed and screamed..._

_..._

16 year old John Watson woke with a start, sitting bolt upright and staring around the empty room, breathing heavily.

It took him a long moment to realise he was dreaming, and an even longer moment to berate himself for still having these dreams at all.

There was no screaming, not any more. Not since the divorce any way, he didn't have to deal with the screaming any more.

It was nights like this, however, that the ghostly silence was more unnerving to him.

John's parents had finally split up when John was 15, after years and years of fighting until they realised the relationship was just self-destructive. But in all honesty, John was still haunted with memories from it, not as often as he used to be but every now and then he'd have these dreams, these dreams that forced him to wake up in a cold sweat.

He sighed to himself and let his head fall into his hands, he knew he was too young to be so troubled by this sort of stuff, but he also knew it would never go away. John didn't know what he was supposed to do about it though, kids with normal lives wouldn't be worrying about this stuff but a kid with a normal life wouldn't have had to go through the things his family had gone through.

John had always thought that when his Mum and Dad finally split up it would be for the better, he might even get some sleep then, but the divorce itself had been very rocky. Each parent refusing to talk to each other, John having to be the go-to-guy between the pair of them.

But one of the biggest problems that had faced John was where he was going to live, for Harry it had been simple, she didn't really care but John didn't want to move away from either of his parents...sometimes he thought he cared too much. Sometimes he thought that was a good thing.

But times like this when he was sat in a cold sweat, fearing something that had happened a year ago; he thought that caring too much was definitely a curse.

John looked at the alarm clock on the side of his bed and saw that it was 5 minutes from going off at 7am, he closed his eyes tightly and let his head hit the pillow again, desperately trying to get any form of rest out of his exhausting night before he had to get up for school.

It was inevitable, though, in what seemed a matter of seconds his alarm sounded loudly from his bedside table and John groaned loudly.

He didn't hate school, it wasn't that at all, he just wasn't any good at operating on no sleep.

He didn't think it was fair.

He swung his legs over his bed and stood up slowly, rubbing the sleep from his closed eyes and reaching blindly for the alarm clock.

The alarm clock wasn't what he found though, his fingers skimmed over soft fur, he opened his eyes and looked down at Mr. Grizzly.

John turned the alarm off and picked his old Teddy Bear up slowly, he never slept with that thing any more, but he always kept him on his bedside table, within his sight.

It always seemed to John, even though he'd never tell anyone, that even though Mr. Grizzly couldn't speak and wasn't even alive, he was the only one who had been with John throughout everything.

John always believed that thinking that was easier than admitting how alone he actually was.

…

John was in the kitchen, still in his pyjamas, pouring milk into his bowl of cereal when his Mum walked into the room, fully dress, fishing around her hand bag for her car keys.

"Hey." Said John, barely looking up.

"Morning, Sweetheart." John's Mum, Rebecca, replied, sitting at the table and picking up the cup of coffee that had been sat there when John came in.

"How did you sleep?" She asked with an eyebrow raised as John leant against the counter and yawned hugely.

John shrugged, not wanting to tell her, he dug into his cereal more enthusiastically than he would have normally.

"Morning everyone." Came Stuarts voice suddenly as he walked into the kitchen, apparently looking for something.

"What have you lost?" Rebecca asked, glancing around.

"Car ke...oh! Found them!" He exclaimed, grabbing the aforementioned keys from the side.

"Hi John," said Stuart, turning away from John just as quickly. "We're going to that party at the Williams' tonight." He instructed, John watched as his Mother looked slightly taken aback and then composed herself with the fake smile John was growing accustomed to.

John scowled. Stuart was his Mum's boyfriend, and his Mum apparently loved him but that didn't mean John had to like him. Stuart always bossed his Mum around and told her what to do, and she never stood up for herself, John had never spoken to her about it but he assumed that she just didn't want to be in a relationship where she did nothing but fight again. But John's Father hadn't been a bad person, he and his Mum had just never been on the same page.

Stuart, on the other hand, was an arsehole.

"Hi." John said back, trying to appear friendly, but Stuart was out of the door without so much as a second glance to his girlfriends son, John rolled his eyes and decided not to waste precious brain cells thinking about it.

"Party?" Asked John politely.

"Yeah," Rebecca replied, suddenly sounding tired. "Some people Stuart know from work, he figured we should go out seeing as you're back at your Dad's tonight."

"Ah." John nodded,. Although his mind was way past the party now.

He was going to have to go back to his Dad's tonight.

He didn't want to go back to his Dad's and he hated himself for feeling that way.

It wasn't his Dad that was the problem, he loved him, but it was the fact that his Father was never there. His Dad was a barrister and all his time was taken up by one case or another.

The Watson's had come to a strange arrangement when it had come to living arrangements. Harry came and went wherever whenever she wanted, which was usually her boyfriends, but John spent one fortnight with his Mum and one fortnight with his Dad, which meant that when he had to go back to his father's house, he was stuck there for two weeks solid. But he tried not to let himself give it any energy, he tried desperately to remain the glass-half-full person he could barely remember.

…

At 3:20 that day John got to his Dad's and let himself in, slinging his school bag in the porch and kicking his school shoes off gratefully. John only had six months left off school, he always reminded himself that when he had a tough day.

But he quickly decided that wasn't necessarily a good thing when John remembered that after school he was just coming back to a big, empty house.

John quickly turned most of the lights on, he didn't have a thing against being green, he just preferred a light house to a dark one, it made it look at least a little bit lived in.

After that, John wandered around the house aimlessly for a few moments.

"Harry!" He called out, just to make sure, "Harry!"

When he got no reply, he concluded that his sister wasn't home. Which was a relief in some ways.

But in other ways it wasn't. John put the kettle on and walked to the porch to retrieve his school bag. He made himself a hot cup of tea, slung his school bad loosely over one shoulder and meandered up the stairs.

That was another thing about his Dad's house, he never knew what to do with himself there.

John was halfway through his History essay on the Cold war, and he got distracted from writing about the Soviet Invasion of Czechoslovakia when he heard a key in the front door.

Judging by the footsteps of the person who walked in it was John's father, Bernard.

John glanced to the clock in his bedroom at this house.

10pm.

John shook his head, realising that his Dad would be too tired to talk to now, so John just let him walk to his bedroom and close the door.

As soon as John finished his essay he crawled into bed, knowing he'd regret it if he lost sleep again that night.

Although he tried to drift off, for a good hour he kept one ear open to hear if Harry would come back that night, she never did.

John soon fell into a dreamless sleep only to practically do the same things tomorrow.

In a nutshell, John Watson hated his life.

_I know, no Sherlock in this chapter, but I promise he'll be along soon to make John feel better x_


	2. Adorably quirky

Connected

Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or any of the characters, they belong to the BBC, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and any other respective owners.

A/N: Should point out, in this story, Harry isn't a lesbian, merely for the fact that the story rolls better if John is the only homosexual in the family x

Chapter Two: Adorably quirky

John woke up, bleary-eyed, to the shrill sound of the alarm. He groaned loudly as he glared at the clock, before turning over and closing his eyes again. He stretched his arm behind his head and reached blindly for the alarm, only proceeding to knock it off of his bedside table. He winced at the at the crash and groaned once more.

"Shit." He said quietly, sitting up in bed slowly. He really wasn't a morning person.

He got out of bed and picked the alarm clock off the floor and turned it off, placing it on top of the table and grabbing his dressing gown, getting ready for another day.

John walked down the stairs and was pleasantly surprised when he reached the kitchen, his Dad was sat at the table eating breakfast. He smiled tiredly as John walked in.

"Morning, Johnny boy."

"Hey, Dad." John replied, genuinely happy. "What are you doing here?"

"Living here." Bernard replied, looking mildly amused and John rolled his eyes as he put the kettle on.

"You've got a spring in your step today, John." Bernard observed, John turned back to him, unsure of what to tell him. John didn't want to tell his father that the reason he was happy was because he was having a conversation with him, and he wasn't too tired or annoyed from work. The last time John had seen his father before he ran off to work was when it was snowing two years ago and his Dad didn't have to go in until lunch time.

"Listen, John-" began Bernard, staring into his cereal bowl, "I'm sorry I wasn't here to see you last night."

"No worries." John told him, "hey Dad, I was wondering..."

"Hey, sorry, John..."Bernard interrupted, looking down at his watch with a worried expression John was all too familiar with etched across his face. "I've got to meet a client in 15 minutes, this is huge I swear, this could be the case of the century."

"Yeah." Said John, all the enthusiasm drained from his voice. "Hope it goes well."

"Yeah, see you tonight." And with that, Bernard Watson was out of the kitchen and out of the front door, his cereal bowl left abandoned on the table. John sighed frustratedly and shook his head, he was too used to it to be that upset, but it pissed him off no end.

He made himself a cup of tea and leant against the side, staring at the empty house and almost hearing his mood hit the floor again.

…

John had a slow walk to school, feeling dismal again, he knew he gave it too much thought but he'd been an over-thinker for 16 years so he figured there was no real hope in changing it now. It irritated him, that was all there was too it. His Dad used to work a lot when he was still with his Mum but he'd never worked this much before, he'd tried to explain to John once that he needed more money to support himself now he didn't have the extra income of his Mums job, but John knew other people like them that didn't have that much money, and their parents didn't work all the time.

When John said his Dad worked all the time, he didn't just mean that his Dad worked a lot, he genuinely meant that his Dad worked _full-time, _he imagined he'd see his Dad all of three times in the fortnight he was spending there, this morning being the first.

John shook his head as he reached the entrance of his secondary, he didn't want to think about this all day, there was no point.

John walked into his form room later than he generally would have because of his slow walk to school, so when he got there pretty much everyone was in the form room.

He spied out his two best friends sat across the room laughing with each other and smiled slightly as he made a bee line for them.

"Hey guys." He said.

"Hey !" They both replied, Martin and Ben had been John's best friends since primary school, Ben was sat on the table even though he shouldn't have been, splayed out casually, he was definitely the coolest of the three. Martin, however, was probably one of the funniest people John had ever known, but he was more inclined to follow the rules completely.

John pulled up a plastic chair and sat down, throwing his bag under the table.

"You're late today." Ben observed. John shook his head and laughed.

"Yeah, Dad was being funny."

"What happened?" Asked Martin, staring up at John, who shrugged non-committally.

"Nothing...hey, have you guys checked out that new "Racers" game yet?"

"No, but I heard about it," began Ben, apparently distracted from the first subject, "is it any good?"

"My brother reckons it is," began Martin, "maybe we should..."

John smiled slightly as they made plans to go to Martin's house at the weekend to try out a new game, he'd never discussed any of his problems with Martin or Ben, he'd never really felt the need too.

He supposed they'd picked up on the fact that John was going through a tough time but they didn't say anything and John was grateful for it. Martin and Ben made him forget his problems, and that was the best he could hope for.

…

John walked home that day with his head filled with his upcoming history exam, he'd been writing so many practise questions for it but still there were things he was worried about. History was such a detailed topic, John knew he shouldn't be worried about it but sometimes he couldn't help it. John decided that tonight he should study the end of the cold war and then he could...

"Hey, stop!"

John turned to the sound of heavy footfalls and loud shouting. He looked at the commotion and saw a tall, thin guy chasing a slightly shorter guy in a black hoodie and he was really making a run for it.

"Move out of the way!" The chased man screamed at John but John didn't move away quick enough and felt the wind be knocked out of him as the stranger collided into him with enough force to knock himself on the ground, John stumbled slightly but didn't fall over. John righted himself and stared in shock as the taller man grabbed the other one and yanked him to his feet, holding his arms behind his back.

"Fuck." The man exclaimed quietly, hanging his head in defeat.

John finally looked away from him and finally had a chance to look at the other man that had been chasing him, he was about 6ft tall and was very angular although he seemed to possess a kind of wiry strength, he must have had the sharpest cheekbones John had ever seen. He also had dark, bordering-on-messy hair that fell adorably into his blue-green eyes. John felt like he could stare at this stranger forever, even with the man between them.

John looked immediately away, however, when the man locked eyes with him.

"Err...err..." tried John desperately, embarrassed at being caught out.

"Thanks," the man said suddenly with a crisp English accent, pulling the man sharply as an indicator, the man found John's eyes again and this time John couldn't look away.

"What's your name?" He asked.

"John Watson." John answered immediately, thinking he would do whatever this man asked him to do. He couldn't have been more than 18, and he was the most gorgeous man John had ever...had ever...

"...What happened?...What's this all about?" Asked John, cursing himself for acting like a teenager...even though he was a teenager.

"This man has been cheating on his A-Levels at college," he informed John, "haven't you?" He said to the man, who gave him a look of pure hatred but he didn't make a move to get away.

"I was after him, pretty sure I'd loose him, too. I owe you."

"Errr...no worries." John assured him, losing himself in _those eyes_ again, they seemed to be sort of...sparkling. "How did you know?"

The tall man honoured John with a small smile, "elementary, Watson."

John was so caught up in trying to figure out if anyone ever talked like that any more that he didn't realise the two men had turned and the taller one began walking the suspect back in the direction of the college.

But...John didn't want him to go, he had no idea why not but he didn't want him to go.

"What's your name?" He called suddenly."

The man turned back to him, "Sherlock Holmes." He called over his shoulder, before turning back and walking out of sight.

Sherlock Holmes...what a strange name...it was then that John realised that there had been something adorably quirky about that man...about _Sherlock_ _Holmes _by the way he had spoken and by the way he cared enough to come after some guy, so John figured he also needed an adorably quirky name.

John found himself smiling at the spot Sherlock Holmes had just been standing in, and he smiled to himself all the way home, too.

He felt better, he felt his mood lift.

…

John was two pages to the end of the fifth chapter of the fourth book in the "Vampire Enemy" series he'd started the previous day when there was a knock on his door. He looked up on instinct, it was too early for his Dad to be back.

"Yeah?" He called out.

The door opened and Harry walked in, John immediately book-marked his page and put the book down.

He got up and walked over to Harry, staring at her. "Harry..what...what the hell happened?"

But John knew what had happened, he could smell the alcohol reeking from her breath, and she had tear tracks down her face, smearing her mascara.

Harry had taken the divorce upheaval worse than John had, she'd begun drinking until the point of passing out and had begun doing the most stupid things. Whenever things went wrong, which was a lot, Harry would always come to John for help, and he always helped her because she had know one else to talk too. Or because he was an idiot, he hadn't decided yet.

All of a sudden, Harry began to cry. Silent tears streaming down her pretty face.

"John, am I a bad person?" She asked suddenly as her sobs became louder, "am I the reason Mum and Dad broke up?"

John had to refrain from rolling his eyes, they'd been over this hundreds of times in her drunken state. And he did the same thing he did every time this happened, he hugged her, comforted her, told her of course not until she calmed down.

When John finally calmed his sister down enough he got her into bed, still no sign of their Dad, he sighed to himself heavily and collapsed into his own bed, exhausted.

John clutched the covers tightly and tried his best to fall asleep as soon as he could, he refused to think about what had just happened with Harry, or the sad familiarity of it. He fell asleep very quickly after that.

After Harry got drunk on him, John always had restless nights, but tonight was different.

He probably wouldn't remember it in the morning, but that night, John's dreams were full of Sherlock Holmes.


	3. Enigma

Connected

Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or any of the characters, they belong to the BBC, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and any other respective owners.

Chapter 3: Enigma

John walked into his form room later than he would have usually done, he'd slept in that morning for reasons that entirely didn't involve his dreaming of Sherlock Holmes.

John joined Ben and Martin at the end of the classroom like he did everyday, throwing his bag under the table like a rag doll. Martin rolled his eyes at John's lack of care for his school things and Ben snorted in laughter at Martin, John really did like his friends.

"Good night?" Asked Ben, inclining his head to John for an answer, although John knew that he could give Ben a half-answer and he wouldn't question it.

John shrugged his shoulders, "same old." He really didn't want to tell Ben and Martin about what had happened with Harry, he didn't know if his two friends knew about the situation with his sister, but he figured if they had heard anything they'd never brought it up. But John didn't know if that was because they didn't want to make John uncomfortable or if they felt uncomfortable themselves.

"What about you guys?" He asked, steering the subject.

"Yeah, not bad." Ben answered lightly, turning back to Martin, "spent half the night texting Sally."

"Ha!" Martin exclaimed, "you finally gonna get with with her?"

"You'd better not." John warned half-jokingly, shaking his head. "Sally is such a bitch."

Ben snorted. "Yeah, just 'cause you're not getting any."

John sighed internally at the open vulgarity of his friend, deciding there was no point in challenging him about it. Ben was a womaniser and he always would be.

"All right, I think we can avoid battle of the relationship-game." Martin laughed, "are you two going to that open day at the college today?"

"Yeah." Ben answered.

John nodded. "Yeah, nearly didn't though." He explained, "Dad was barely around five minutes to sign the form."

"Why didn't you just get your Mum to sign it?" Asked Ben, raising a bemused eyebrow.

John opened his mouth to reply, stopped and thought, before closing his mouth in defeat. "Dammit." He muttered.

Martin and Ben began to laugh and John joined in, it was funny. He had a terrible memory.

"Oh!" Began Martin suddenly, like something had just materialised in his memory, getting John and Ben's attention. "Speaking of the college..." Martin continued, "apparently someone was faking all their A-Levels and they got found out."

"Really?" Asked Ben, interested, "what happened?"

"Dunno." Replied Martin, "he failed though, and they chucked him out of the college."

"What an idiot," Ben laughed. "Don't you reckon, John?"

"Hmm." John said in response, mind drawn back to the events of yesterday. He remembered how the guy had crashed into him, and remembered how Sherlock Holmes had looked at him with those piercing eyes. John had to fight off the urge to sigh like a school girl, he hadn't been able to get Sherlock Holmes out of his mind ever since yesterday. He didn't know why, but he didn't hate it. If anything, I was nice having his mind pre-occupied with a hot guy as opposed to all of the problems in his life. And Sherlock had been hot, he'd been...John didn't even know. He'd had those eyes and that way his dark hair fell into his eyes.

Also, John couldn't help but admire what Sherlock had done, he thought he was half-mad, just going after that guy like that, but there was something to be admired there.

"...John, what are you thinking about?"

"Huh?" Asked John, brought out of his reverie by Martin's voice, "what?"

"You were thinking about something soooo interesting that you are completely ignoring your best friend!" Ben exclaimed jokingly, turning his nose up at John.

John rolled his eyes and laughed. "Idiot."

…

The whole of John's form had spent the last hour walking around the college, going to separate departments to talk to different students about the things they studied and so forth. Currently though, John, Ben and Martin were hanging at the back, none of them had been interested in any of the subjects that had come up so far and were passing the time by playing eye-spy.

John didn't care that they sometimes acted like three year olds, sometimes it was more fun than acting your age.

"Okay..." began John, "eye spy with my little eye, something beginning with...hey, something interesting!"

"John," Ben frowned, "that's not how you play eye spy!"

John laughed and gestured to the room where the group had stopped. "Yeah, I know, I mean...we finally have the science department."

Martin rolled his eyes, "yay, science. You 'no, John we're not all boffins you."

"I find that offensive." John mock-huffed, before floundering off to talk to one of the science lecturers. Ben and Martin rolled their eyes but followed their friend none the less.

"Doctor? That's pretty impressive." Martin and Ben heard the man talking to John say as they approached them, "have you always wanted to be a Doctor?"

John shrugged slightly, "not always, no. In the last few years though, I think it'll be a great job."

"Well, it takes a lot of hard work and study to become a Doctor." The man told John, and he nodded, ignoring the good-natured chuckling of his friends behind them.

John _had _always wanted to be a Doctor, ever since he was young and his Mum would put a plaster on his scraped knees he wanted to help people, but he thought that was a really weird dream to have as a child, most children wanted to be an astronaut or a pirate, so he generally kept it to himself. John was willing to put in the work to achieve his dreams. He felt bad about it, but he knew it was also a good way to get away from his family.

When they left the science department they came to the law department, again, a subject that interested none of them. So as other people were talking amongst themselves and talking to some of the adults in the room, John stared around the room in silence, bored. He assessed the people and the students talking and working and thought about how irritating this must be to these people, just trying to do their work and having annoying teenagers come and bother them, nearly all of them were in conversation with one of his classmates. All except one.

And that was when John saw him, sat alone on a table away from everyone else, simultaneously writing notes into a notepad and typing onto a laptop. Concentration ablaze in his blue-green eyes. Sherlock Holmes.

The coincidence of their second meeting didn't even register in John's mind for a few moments. While they weren't in direct contact this time, John had more time to study the enigma that had been dominating his thought process for the last day. He was oddly well-dressed for an 18 year old, something John hadn't noticed the previous day. He wore black trousers and a purple dress shirt with the first two buttons undone.

His hair was still a stylish mess, he was so long and thin, his slender fingers seemed to dance across the keyboard of the laptop with a strange kind of grace, and he seemed completely oblivious to everything around him.

He was all alone.

Yet he didn't seem to care.

John took a deep breath, convincing himself he wasn't working up courage, and walked over to talk to Sherlock Holmes. It wasn't strange, they were _supposed _to be talking to the students, even if he had no interest in law whatsoever.

John was stood beside Sherlock for a few long moments until he realised that Sherlock hadn't realised he was standing by him, he really was in his own world. John was actually debating making himself known, Sherlock Holmes was such an interesting subject to study, more interesting than many he'd seen that morning, John felt like he should be conducting some form of nature programme.

"Hi." John said finally, his voice coming out stranger than he had intended. Sherlock immediately snapped up to look at the source of noise by his side. He studied John up and down for a few brief moments before putting his pen down, his facial expression betraying nothing.

"John Watson." He said in his almost-gravely tone. John was taken aback by this strange greeting, but Sherlock didn't seem to find it strange at all.

"Err...Sherlock Holmes." John replied, trying to be funny but regretting it when Sherlock didn't laugh, he just stared intently at John, waiting for him to say whatever it is he had come over to say.

"Oh, err..." began John, thinking desperately of something to say. Something that wasn't stupid, anyway. "I heard that guy from yesterday got kicked out of the college."

"Well, that was the plan." Sherlock answered evenly, turning back to his laptop, although John somehow knew that he was still listening to him.

"Why...I mean, what made you go after him?" John asked, hoping it wasn't a stupid question.

Sherlock stopped typing for a moment but didn't turn back to John. "Detective work." He said slowly.

"Detective?" Asked John, "you're studying to be a detective? That's pretty cool."

Sherlock turned back to him, clearly not wanting to discuss his future with John. "What about you?" He asked John, "are you here with the dreary school of children intent on buzzing through every classroom in this building to try and discover their badly planned out futures?" He raised his eyebrows at John slightly, "no offence."

"None taken," said John, trying not to laugh as much as he wanted to. Sherlock happened to be one of those people who didn't know they were being funny when they were. He was deadly serious, in fact, and honest for once.

He spoke unlike anyone John had ever heard too, John thought. Sherlock Holmes really was quirky.

"I was at the science department," John explained to Sherlock.

"Doctor?" Asked Sherlock suddenly, but it was less of a question and more a statement of fact, John stared at him for a moment.

"Yeah...how did you...?"

Sherlock smirked slightly as he began writing notes again in what John noticed was an elegant script. John didn't understand how Sherlock knew about John wanting to be a Doctor, but he felt silly bringing it up again, so he changed the subject.

"Why are you working alone?" He asked, resisting the urge to clap a hand over his mouth. Why in the hell had he just asked that?

"I'm not a people person." Sherlock answered, again, he didn't seem to mind John's question and didn't think he was asking stupid questions.

Sherlock knew he was a very forthright person and was grateful John appeared to be, too. It made having necessary conversations with people so much easier.

"Well, I'm not really, either." John continued, hoping there was some way of convincing Sherlock that he wasn't a complete weirdo. "I only have a few friends."

John then understood in that moment that the thing that came out of his mouth next, he would never understand and never, ever repeat.

"Maybe you and me could...hang out some time."

"Is there something you need to get away from?" Asked Sherlock bluntly.

"...No..." John lied only a little bit, again in wonder of how this person could somehow read him like a book. John hadn't asked Sherlock to hang out with him so he could get away from his family, he just wanted to...hang out with him.

He didn't want to walk out of this room and risk never seeing him again, John realised he was probably crazy now.

"I suppose we could get together at some point." Sherlock answered finally, smiling slightly again, "I can properly thank you for helping with that man yesterday."

_Don't read anything into it, _John forced himself to think as soon as Sherlock had said it. But he really wanted to read something into it.

John and Sherlock exchanged numbers after that and John wished he wasn't blushing. But from the look Sherlock was giving him, he knew he probably was. It was hard work, tearing himself away from Sherlock's eyes. But when he finally did and walked back to his friends, his head was full of how Sherlock was going to "thank" him, and wondering if he was imagining Sherlock's eyes on his retreating back.

"Who was that?" Asked Ben immediately as John joined them, as the three boys made their way out of the room.

"No one," John lied, "just a student I was chatting to."

But John did sneak a glance back to Sherlock before they left the room, his dark head bent over his notes and staring at them intently, and John really couldn't put his finger on it.

He couldn't put his finger on why he wanted to spend every second of his day with this man.


	4. We're both Enemies of the Vampire

Connected

Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or any of the characters, they belong to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and any other respective owners. Also, if there genuinely is an Author out there called Michael Riley, it is a complete coincidence that I've used your name.

Chapter Four: We're both Enemies of the Vampire

John was woken up rather abruptly and glanced at the clock.

9:30 am.

He rolled his eyes, that was pretty pathetic for a Saturday. He strained his ears to try and locate the sound that had woken him, and realised it was coming from down stairs. John begrudgingly got out of bed and donned his dressing gown, yawning as he walked down the stairs.

He stopped on the bottom step as he caught the sound of the commotion, it was his Dad, and Harry, and they sounded like they were arguing.

"And what time did you get home last night?"

"It doesn't matter Dad! I'm 18, I can do what I want!"

"Not while you're still living under my roof..."

John sighed, irate, and turned on his heel and walked straight back the way he came. His Dad and Harry hadn't argued for a while now, he thought they'd finally stopped. But as he thought about it, the more logical reason was probably because his Dad was never around enough for Harry to argue with him.

But John didn't care, he couldn't allow himself to care. He let it go right over his head and he knew he needed to get out of the house. He wasn't staying and listening to them argue just like his parents had argued.

He didn't need it.

John quickly slipped on some jeans and pulled a t-shirt over his head. He walked down the stairs, pulling on each sock as he went and grabbing his jacket from the bottom of the bannister.

He could hear them again, and he really didn't want to walk right into it. But he comforted himself with the fact that he would be out the door in under two minutes and also that the fight had nothing to do with him.

It would only become his business when Harry drunkenly spilled her guts to him later.

He took a breath and popped his head around the door to the kitchen, he tried to give them one of his best smiles so they wouldn't think he'd heard them, it was fake, of course.

"Hey Dad, just wondering if I could pop over to Mum's? I left my book there."

"Sure thing, Johnny boy." Said John's father, smiling for John's benefit, but the smile was probably just as fake as John's.

John retracted his head and the smile was instantly gone. He toed on his trainers and closed the front door behind him, zipping up his jacket against the cold before walking out of the garden.

John hadn't left a book at his Mums, John would never do that. He tried not to think that maybe if his Dad was around more he might know that himself.

John fished his phone out of his pocket and opened up a new message.

_Hey Mum, you up?_

He continued walking in the direction of his Mothers house even though he didn't have a response yet, but it wasn't long before his phone beeped with his text alert noise.

_Yeah I'm up. Come over if you want xxx_

John didn't bother to reply as he'd be at his Mothers house in less than five minutes anyway, so he put his phone away, stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked faster, trying to fight off how tired he still was.

When he got to his Mum's house, John didn't knock and just walked in through the open door, he found his Mum in the kitchen, nursing a cup of tea and reading.

"Books?" Asked John, mock-incredulously as he walked in, causing his Mum to look up, surprised at her Sons entrance. "My Mother is reading books?"

Rebecca grinned at her son. "Hey, we all read. You just have your nose in _your_ books so much you never notice."

John chuckled slightly and moved to the kettle, making himself a cup of tea. "You're up early," he began, "how come?"

John glanced at his Mum and saw her shrug. "Stuart was meeting up with one of his work buddies and he woke me up, so I decided to pick up my book and pass the time."

"Oh." Said John, turning back to his tea so his Mother wouldn't see the slight scowl on his face.

"What about you?" Asked Rebecca, as John joined his Mother at the table, freshly made tea warming his hands. "No one can get you out of bed on a Saturday."

John looked down at his cup. "Yeah...Dad and Harry were arguing again, so...I needed to get away from it."

John looked up to see his Mother frowning. "I thought Bernard and Harry stopped fighting a long time ago. At least that's what you said." She said, frown evident in her voice.

"I thought they'd stopped fighting too." John told her in defence, "I thought they'd finally gotten over their differences. But I was wrong."

Rebecca was still frowning. "I worry about you sometimes, John." She told him, "having to listen to your Father and Sister like that."

John fought to bite back a retort about it being perfectly okay for her to argue with his Dad into the night, but he didn't want to bring any of that shit back up.

He merely shrugged. "It's alright." Was all he said.

It looked as though John's Mother was going to say something, but whatever it was, John never heard it as Stuart strode into the kitchen with his usual air of self-importance, one of his work buddies that John didn't know the name of and didn't care about the name of trailed in behind him.

"Hey there John." Stuart greeted, smile on his face. "Just off to golf with Brian..." he told Rebecca, "hey there John, I'm proving a point, aren't Man City the best football club in Britain?"

"What?" Asked John after a moments hesitation, he didn't know what Stuart was talking about, the pair had never spoken about football. In fact, John didn't even like football that much, meaning Man City weren't his favourite team, no one was.

"Brian here thinks Arsenal are better," Stuart explained, but he still wasn't making any sense to John, but he still continued. "So I said that I know a sixteen year old boy that would beg to differ, you love Man City, don't you John?"

Ah, now John understood. Either Stuart was just completely lying to make himself seem better or he was so self-deluded he'd convinced himself John would agree with anything he had to say. Generally John would have said something but his Mother was in the room and life was too short.

He gave Stuart his second fake smile of the day. "Oh, yeah, Man City are the best, Arsenal wouldn't stand a chance against them." He said, purely to get Stuart off of his back.

Stuart laughed. "Good man!" He said, clapping John on the back. He kissed John's Mum quickly and then was out of the door with Brian in tow, John shook his head, he couldn't shake the gut feeling of dislike he had for that man.

"Well," began Rebecca, bringing John back to their conversation. "Whatever is going on between your Father and Harry, I'm sure it will all sort itself out," she said as she stood up.

John didn't believe her for a second, but agreed with her anyway.

Rebecca patted John on the head, "chin up, something will come along soon enough."

John's thought process was then cut off as his phone beeped in his pocket. He pulled his phone out as his Mother took her empty mug to the sink and looked at the I.D.

_Sherlock_

John froze for a second, he'd last seen Sherlock when they'd exchanged numbers in the college a week ago, and when he'd suggested they meet up, he didn't think Sherlock had taken him seriously.

John couldn't get the adorably quirky man out of his mind though, but every time Sherlock Holmes had appeared in his thought process, John was always met with a sort of empty feeling in the pit of his stomach, knowing he'd probably never see the man again. Why Sherlock was texting him now...John was almost a little afraid to open the text, but he did anyway.

_Text me your address so I can come and pick you up in an hour. I have a surprise for you. SH_

John was confused, but he could feel the excitement building in his stomach, he was going to see Sherlock again. Sherlock _wanted _to see him. And he had a surprise...with shaking fingers, John tapped in his Mum's address and sent the message to Sherlock.

He tried to keep the excitement out of his voice as he spoke to his Mother.

"Hey, Mum, mind if I hang out here for a bit?" He asked.

"Course you can." His Mum answered, "you can stay as long as you like, I was just going to have a chilled Saturday."

"I'll...err...I'll be off out in a bit though." He told her, smile creeping across his face, he couldn't wait to go out with Sherlock, even if he had no idea where they were going.

John's Mum smiled at him. "It'll be good for you to get out," she told him, "who are you going with?" She asked casually.

John shrugged but his indifference was, of course, a complete lie. "A friend."

…

John got into Sherlock's car precisely an hour later, when his eyes met Sherlock's, John could feel himself melting. Sherlock was still as gorgeous as he'd been when John had first saw him. His hair was still raven and bordering on messy, his cheekbones looked like they could cut through steel and his eyes...his eyes were still perfect.

"Hi." Said John finally, sounding a little nervous.

"Hello John." Sherlock answered, in that well spoken way of his. John remembered how quirky Sherlock had seemed, and how out of time he had seemed with his speech and his clothes. Today, he was wearing a long black coat and a purple scarf wrapped around his neck.

Sherlock didn't say anything to John after that, he just started the engine and began to drive. John didn't really know what to say, Sherlock Holmes didn't strike him as the type of man who would waste time on pleasantries. John could have happily sat there and just stared at him, plotting every feature of Sherlock to memory. But what John had also gathered from this man was that he was very observant, so he would probably notice John's ogling.

"So..." Asked John finally, "why...did you want to surprise me?"

Sherlock didn't look at him as he spoke. "I saw it and I thought of you."

John sat back and didn't question that, but he did wonder how Sherlock could think of him, how he could claim to know something about John to make him think of him, they didn't know each other, all John had told him about himself was his name and his ambition to be a Doctor.

They sat in comfortable silence for the rest of the drive, and John quickly realised he didn't mind being in silence with Sherlock. Generally, with other people, it made him feel uncomfortable, made him feel like he had to say something, but with Sherlock, he felt fairly contented, he didn't need to do anything. He could just sit there, plotting the uniquely pleasant way Sherlock smelled to memory, sneaking glances at him every ten minutes or so. John was happy.

They arrived, about two towns over, outside some form of community centre. Sherlock turned to John. "Come on." He said, in his gravely voice, before getting out of the car.

John got out of the passenger side and looked at the community centre, concentrating on the people trickling into it.

"Sherlock..." he asked in confusion, "what are we doing here?"

"There," Sherlock informed him, pointing a gloved hand to the sign outside of the door, John read it:

_Meet and Greet_

_Best-selling author Michael Riley._

"But...but..." John stuttered disbelievingly for a moment, he looked at Sherlock to see him smirking. "Michael Riley is my favourite author," John breathed out, "how the hell did you know?"

"Pretty obvious really," Sherlock began, "when we met in the college, you had a well-read copy of "Vampire Enemy" by Michael Riley in your bag, next to several other barely read textbooks, meaning you've read that book more than any other in your school bag. The title and genre suggest that the book wouldn't be homework to be read for school, meaning you brought it on your own accord, and no sixteen year old that didn't like reading would bring a book to school. The fact the book you chose to bring was a part of a set of covers from the "Vampire Enemy" complete series, instead of individual covers, suggests you have the whole set. Therefore implying Michael Riley is your favourite author."

Sherlock had said all of that without taking a breath, and John couldn't take his eyes off of him for a few long moments, even though Sherlock wasn't looking at him.

John couldn't even process all of the information Sherlock had just given him, he had noticed all of that from one look? ...The man was a genius.

"That..." began John, when speech finally returned to him, "that was incredible."

Sherlock turned to him then. "How on Earth did you figure that out?" John asked incredulously.

"The science of deduction." Sherlock replied, "I wouldn't be a very successful detective without it."

"Incredible," John couldn't manage to stop saying to himself, but then something occurred to him. "Hold on," he began, getting Sherlock's attention again. "How did you know that the book cover was from a set?"

"I...um," Sherlock coughed. "I happen to own the same series myself."

This caused John to laugh out loud, and after a moment, even Sherlock chuckled slightly. As they walked into the community centre, John realised that he and Sherlock actually had something in common.

…

When John walked into his Father's house that night, he had so many thoughts whirling around in his head, he didn't know where to start.

John couldn't get over that incredible display Sherlock had given him. And he'd gotten to meet Michael Riley! That was one of the best things John had ever done, he'd actually gotten to meet one of his heroes and Michael Riley had really delivered.

John couldn't get over how kind it had been of Sherlock to do that for him, John realised he was beginning to harbour a very large soft spot for his adorably quirky new friend.

John walked into the front room, unsurprised to find the house empty, and picked up his school bag from the porch on the way in. He let himself sink into one of the armchairs in the room and picked out the aforementioned "Vampire Enemy" book from his school bag, thumbing the page he had bookmarked and opened the book.

Everything Sherlock had said to John was true, everything about the book series and how much he'd read them. John knew he was now always going to associate his favourite book series with Sherlock Holmes.

John had been reading for about twenty minutes when he heard the front door open and close, his Father went into the kitchen before he came into the front room, John closed the book, bookmarking the page with his thumb, and listened out for his Father.

After 5 minutes, Bernard Watson passed the front room, beer in his hand, and saw John sitting down, Bernard turned to face his son and John saw how tired his Dad looked, and sighed internally.

"Hey, John..." his Dad began, "I'm pretty tired, I'm gonna go to bed."

"'Kay," said John, "see ya."

John's Dad smiled at him and then walked away, John could hear his footsteps on the stairs.

It suddenly occurred to John that this was generally the bit where he got irritated or angry, but right now, he was just in such a good mood, he couldn't be brought down. And he was better for it.

So instead of resigning himself to bed in annoyance, John re-opened the book, and settled back into the story that had become his escape for so many years. But as John read, his inner description of the main character as described in the book, changed from the Sandy haired, green eyed man Michael Riley had in his mind whilst writing this, and instead, the image in John's head changed from sandy blonde hair to dark, stylishly messy hair, and from green eyes to blue/grey eyes, blue/grey eyes that were streaked with silver...


End file.
